Apr 10 11:53:46 105 PA

From Chronicles

The current game time is: Fri Apr 10 11:53:46 105 PA. A less than furnished apartment, this room holds the bare minimum of furniture. A cheap sofa, a bed that sags in the middle, a tiny television and an old throw rug. In one corner, a kitchenette stands, complete with stove, sink and cupboard. A door opens to a bathroom with a tiny shower unit in it.

Desmond often passes by Aimee's private dwelling place. For reasons innocent and no so. Occasionally hoping the light in that one window might be on. Might indicate she is there. He is lucky this evening and he doesn't question it. His shift is done and he has the time. Moving up the stairs with a swift walk, down the hall. He shows no hesitance this time as he carefully knocks upon her door. "Aimee." His deep voice is.. strange in that moment. Almost eager, yet not leaving that normal relaxed state. The big male gazing at the peephole as he awaits her response. Hoping she had not simply forgotten to turn the light off when last she left.

There is noise within the apartment and then the door opens slowly, Aimee peering around the frame. "Des..." She steps back to let him in, releasing the door, returning to a nest of things by the sofa. A blanket, a glass of milk, a bar of chocolate - half eaten, a packet of crisps - half eaten, pile of used tissues and the remote control for an elderly television. "Come in, I'm just kinda..." She waves a hand vaguely at them and the television, black and white figures frozen in pose.

Desmond waits patiently and his expression softens when she opens the door. The silent invitation to enter taken, a curious eye sent towards the 'nest' of things. he turns only to carefully close the door before he will track her to this set up. Considering the items for a moment before he looks to the television. He's a bright boy, he makes a quick connection as he asks, "The movies?" The curiosity in his voice lifting. Of course, the next thing he's interested in is considering where he might set himself. He glances at the blanket.. perhaps not enough room for him there, then the couch next to it. "I may watch with you?" A needless question, perhaps. But he must ask.

Aimee waves a hand, inviting probably, her attention on wrapping herself back into the blanket and curling up on the end of the couch. "Feel free. I'm just practicing avoidance..." She reaches for a piece of chocolate and nibbles it, the figures on the screen moving again. Within a moment, her face softens as a man on the screen bends over a woman, murmuring to her that she would regret it, not today..." There is a sniff and Aimee reaches for a tissue, sniffling into it.

Desmond takes the invitation at once, moving to take a seat more towards the middle, careful of her nest as he settles in. Close.. but not too close. "Avoidance? Curiously asked before the images start to move again. And he is honestly curious. Casablanca something has never seen before. He leans forward slightly to observe, considering the man's words as he speaks to the woman on the screen. As the scene goes on, his brow furrows, an ear slid towards Aimee as she sniffles. Though it doesn't show, the scene provokes a smooth flow of silent thought within the big male, but he keeps his words stilled, instead letting the scene run through.

Aimee is sniffing, and eating chocolate absently before she starts to explain, "He is letting her go because the other man needs her to stop the nazis, but he loves her and it's so sad..." That ends on a full blown hiccup of a sob and she reaches for a clean tissue, abandoning the used one to the pile beside her, evidence of some hours of this utterly feminine behaviour. "She loves him too..."

"They must part to face a greater threat, must set aside what is so important," Desmond muses in a low rumble. While not greatly learned, the big cat is keenly intelligent and he makes a link to the now without much need for consideration. He gazes towards Aimee with a slight turn of his head, only paused briefly before he decides to offer some of what he has before. Shifting himself closer to her, without crowding. If she shows no displeasure, he will slip his near arm up, around behind her. Resting it on her opposing shoulder. A light touch at first, an open closeness that will only get closer if she shows a desire to lean into him. The big male keenly aware of her quiet signals in body language throughout. "It is a sadness.. I can empathize closely with them," he states, a sense of sadness edging the deep timbre of his voice. "We both can, surely." His own words provoking thought. Who she would most feel towards.. he or Kelley. But part of him knows the question to be in poor taste, thus he keeps it secret. Rather, he muses lightly whether the characters will return to each other again. For surely he would have to.. or she would, if they were so close. Unless, of course.. He muses and will watch the rest of the movie intently, as if it might hold some solution for him in the now.

Aimee snuggles back into him, sniffling as the film goes on and the woman turns, lifts a hand and gets onto the plane. The sniffing increases and she waves the tissue towards the screen. "And we never know what happens after that! She leaves with the nice guy, leaving him behind, because he makes her leave, and we never know!" That is spoken in a sniffly wail almost, ending on a nose blow. "It isn't fair, not to any of them. The nice guy, he never knew how she felt, or ...anything." She sniffles again, pressing a button on the remote control and the end credits vanish. "I wonder if she went back, later... maybe she found him with someone else." She turns, looking up at Desmond with pink eyes and nose, unromantic reminders of tears over a film. Definitely over a film.

Desmond finds his quiet musings answered in part as he lowers his eyes to meet Aimee's. Meeting her unromantic state with the same steady gaze as she has ever received from him. "Perhaps they wish to let you make your own ending in your imagination," he offers lowly. "You can imagine that she returns and she finds him waiting for her. To give her everything that she had hoped for from him." He lets his own thoughts mingle into his response, unable to keep from crafting his own ending. "Perhaps it would not be so easy for them after, but they would be together, to forge a path through life." His other hand lifts, compelled to trace the side of his index finger along her cheek in a soft brush. "Life is rarely fair, but it has sweet moments. I would imagine that is so for them in the end."

Aimee sighs, her eyes on him, her mind captured by that image, "Perhaps it isn't perfect love but it ends up right for them..." She sighs, and shakes her head slightly, half closing her eyes at his touch. "But the nice guy, the hero that does save the world from the nazis, that leaves him alone and hurt... and even she isn't that much of a bitch." She sighs again, soft, and turns her face into the touch for a moment before she pulls away, reaching to crush the tissues together in her hands. "I guess we don't get to know for sure... " The tissues get thrown in the bin, the next words muffled, "At least both of the men didn't go off on some mission they might both die on."

Desmond feels a soft tingle as she latches on tot hat image. Fading when she seems to dismiss it after a moment. His hand dipping to his knee again, letting her draw from him with hidden disappointment. He's become far too good at hiding those brief flickers. "Such is the way of love, Aimee. Sometimes.. there will be two who would love a woman. It does not make it easy for her, I know." The talk of the mission brings a slight frown to him and he rumbles lowly, "Would you ask me to stay?" The question a simple one without any emotional lean towards the positive or negative. Not abrupt, not forceful. A gently spoken curiosity as the big male gazes at her. His arm remains lifted along the back of the couch, leaving his side open should she return to it.

Aimee sighs and leans back, her head resting on his arm, her face tilted up to look at him. "I asked Kelley what happens if one of you stays. He said it might be the cause of the mission failing..." Those soft words have a question in them somewhere, her eyes holding more of them. "He never asked her to stay, he told her to go. It was the right thing to do..." The film again, her eyes saddened, pinkened by immersion in the emotional lives of three people who never lived. "I think she would have stayed..."

Desmond arches a brow slightly at that. "While I know my skills are honed, I do not think I am integral to this mission. I am merely another warrior amongst several who will be going," he rumbles lowly. "I would stay if you asked me to, Aimee. You mean more to me than anything else here. Trust that I know the leaning of your feelings in this. Though I would not be so bold as to say I know how you will feel.. how you might feel if either of us were to perish. Much less both." The dark voice whispers within about Kelley's demise, but he ignores it, fixing on her face, on her words.

Aimee shakes her head slowly, a flash of something painful in her eyes, her gaze meeting his. She doesn't pull away from his arm at all, staying in the curve of his arm. "Kelley said every person counts, that they will attack here if it doesn't work..." The whisper is spoken with her eyes fixed on his face, "I can't ask you to stay." She hesitates before reaching to touch his face with her fingertips, brushing lightly against his cheek.

"Then I will go.. to safeguard you. To earn what is needed for us.." Why Desmond doesn't clarify that he means the bar is unknown. Perhaps that touch, which he means into, lightly nuzzling against her palm. A soft flare of his nostrils as he takes in her scent. His eyes diverted only briefly by this move before they return to her. "I will return for you, Aimee. I will let nothing keep me away. You know my strength.. you know I will not fall so easily. Will not sacrifice what need not be. You know this, do you not?" Asking for her understanding, her blessing. Perhaps not wholly aware that his free hand shifts to touch her thigh lightly. An innocent touch as he gazes into her eyes intently.

Her green eyes fixed on his face, the emotion in them open for once to show, she nods slowly, "I know, I know, Des..." His touch doesn't cause hers to pull away, but become firmer, her palm against his cheek then sliding down to curl around the nape of his neck, lightly. "Des..." An unspoken question, a flash of nervousness in her eyes, "I don't know what to do." There is a world of confusion, her age shining clearly in the middle of it.

So vulnerable she seems just then. Though drawn to her strength, part of Desmond is drawn by this side of her as well. A darker side, perhaps, which stirs within at that openness of her expression. The youngness that seeps forth with those confused words. "Would that I could tell you.. that I could open the proper path for you," he rumbles lowly. Wanting.. needing. Directionless feelings that need focus. Resolving into something that fills the majority of his needs at least somewhat. The hand at her thigh relaxing, lifting as his other arm curls about her. Drawing Aimee up into an embrace. Giving comfort, receiving her closeness. It will be a tighter hug than those shared before their split. Desmond allowing himself to squeeze her tight against him.

Aimee curls both arms around his neck, hugging him back as tightly, her eyes closed. She is crying again, this time not for film stars who never existed but for some other slightly more real people. She buries her face into his neck, her hair brushing against his chin and cheek. "I can't tell him before he goes on that... if something happened." The words are out, without intent, and she draws back slightly, staring into his face, her eyes shocked.

Desmond closes his eyes as he draws in the fleeting closeness. Words he has heard on love and loss. they seem more real to him now, for every moment seems so much more important now. So few they are. A distant part of his mind hears her words, but he only truly thinks of them when she draws back slightly from him. Those arms relaxing only slightly. Covetous of this time and reluctant to let her go too far. She'll likely catch a flicker of his contented distraction before he focuses and gazes into her eyes with concern. "Tell him what?" Uncertain in that moment, though he knows who she speaks of. Considering the emotion in her eyes.

Aimee returns the look, the silence between them heavy as she looks for words, her eyes speaking as clearly as she would want to. "Tell him that I'm not the damsel he is looking for, that I'm not the person to be with him...he is a proper hero, Des. I'm not any kind of hero, just a girl." She hesitates, before taking a deep breath, "Looking at a boy, telling him she likes him..." There is a real fear of rejection, of him walking away, in her face.

Desmond feels a throb in his chest. She could likely see that her words effect him on some deep, silent level. Though it has nothing to do with the possible implication that Des is no hero. The big male cares little for such distinctions. No.. another aspect of it touches him. "Aimee.. I.. you are a wonderful woman. There is no 'just' when I look at you. You are worthy.. so very worthy." He pauses, uncertain of those last words. Of the precise focus.. the precise intent. It takes him a moment to respond, to convince himself of what she might mean. "A male would be a fool to turn away from such a declaration. I am no fool." His more adventurous hand lifting, fingertips slipping through the lower fringes of her short hair gently. "I love you, Aimee." Low rumbled, without a flicker of his eyes. No doubt, no hesitance. Simple. Focused. True.

Aimee tilts her head back, into the touch, "I'm not, a wonderful woman would stay with him, get on that plane...Des. I'm scared stiff of this, of telling him when he returns, if he returns... what if he doesn't come back and ..." She trails off, her cheeks flushed, his simple declaration stopping the worries in their tracks, "Oh Des, I love you too..." Her green eyes darken, her gaze on his face, unable to draw it away.

The words before, he might have responded to them.. had she not ended with that. It makes all else irrelevant to Desmond. For a few moments at least. His ears will perk at that and his eyes widen. The softness of expression that she usually brings to him will only grow more so.. there is even a flicker.. a near smile as he rumbles lowly, "You could not imagine how sweet those words are to my ears, Aimee. Never had i hoped.." Words fail as he squeezes her to him again. Some small piece of him counters that it might be the softer love of close friends, but he allows not that niggling voice to quash the emotion that floods him. Reckless, that emotion.

Aimee returns the look, the curve of her lips turning into a watery smile at his words. Her eyes are soft green, holding the tears still, pink around the edges. "Des, I can't tell him. Not now...not until after the thing." There is sadness, warning, in those words, her gaze searching his face, "I don't know what you want to do..."

Desmond answers her with action, rather than words. Long has he wanted. Needed. Those words given.. like a key to a lock. Though the hug will relax, it won't be to let her go. The big male will kiss her. And in that kiss will be more than simple words can expression. Yes, there will be heat.. passion. But there will also be longing, such sweet longing of an intensity he has not felt before. The fingers that toyed with her hair before grip softly at those curls. Softly trapping her to him. The kiss a lingering thing, as if he fears to let it end. But it must eventually. Reluctantly.

Aimee returns the need with her own, using her arms around his neck to slide herself into his lap, knees either side of him. The grip in her head draws a small sound from her before her eyes closed, she hugs him, squeezes him tight. His kiss telling her what she wants to know, before she draws back, opening her eyes as he ends it, the green turned hazy, unfocussed until she blinks, clearing them. "Des?" A husky, soft whisper, a question.

"Aimee.." A low, soft growl lacing that word to give the 'yes' before his touch has a chance to confirm. His fingers relaxing from her hair, though those fingers remain lightly curled. Dragging down her back slowly. Only hints of what will come felt through the knotted shirt before his fingers reach uncovered skin. Claws that tease with their perilous tips, yet leave her unscarred.. for now. His blue eyes smoldering with sudden heat as he lets that long caged, long teased beast free. A deeper rumble heard as his hand slips back up, under that shirt. The fabric along her back shredded with a sudden jerk of his hand, claws tearing through the fabric with only token resistance. The tatters snatched at, drawn away to be tossed aside without a care.

Some time later...

Aimee shivers in his arms. Her eyes return his look, her mouth returning his kiss. "Des..." Her own small touches are turned, her eyes drinking in his face. "You're squashing me..." Soft, breathy, not objecting, her mouth curving into a smile. "I missed you. I missed this." The words spoken softly between a kiss and another kiss.

"I'm sorry.." Deep rumbled as Desmond shifts their posture then. Rolling himself onto his back and drawing her with him, letting her do the squishing. The big male releases a deep, contented breath as he gazes up at her, letting the rushing need of intimacy soften. "As did I, Aimee.. they speak no truer words than those of love and loss.. I am thankful that I can know again after the loss. I have never felt so deeply before." His hand lifts again, those naughty claws now fully withdrawn. Gently stroking his fingertips through her hair. "It was almost.. frightening in a way. To feel so much. But I could not turn from it.. from you. Never from you." That sense of contentment lingering. This is good.. so very good.

Aimee moves with him, resting herself comfortably on top of him, bending her arms over his chest and resting her chin on her palms. "I can't leave, Des, not until after. I don't want him going in there wishing to die..." Those words are the first, the him, the Kelley, intruding into this space and time, her eyes regretful. "I hate lying to him but..." She sighs softly, moving her hands apart to drop a kiss lightly against his chest, her eyes his face. "I still want you, how can I want you?"

There is a sense of shattered moment in Desmond's eyes when she speaks of Kelley. But that is brief. An honest understanding coming to him, gentle and accepting. "It is necessary, I understand. And that is all he will say on it. No hurt, no concern for what must be in the immediate. Besides, he is soon distracted by the soft kisses, the professed lingering need. He cannot help but feel a secret swelling of pride, assuming what she means by it. "I do not know, Aimee. You and Kelley did not..?" any other time, he might have felt some dark emotion at considering the possibility. But in the now.. such jealousy doesn't even touch him. Not in tone, not in the set of his expression, which she might find odd.

Aimee 's cheeks colour and she hesitates before replying, her eyes dropping. "Yes... not like this, Des." She bites her lower lip, lifting her gaze to his face slowly, she returns to the kissing, distracting herself from the conversation. She squirms up, resting her arms either side of his head, rubbing her nose lightly across his, her eyes soft. "I'd forgotten how this feels, tried to..." She laughs softly, aiming to nip his lip.

Desmond only nods to the simple fact of what was. Her words reassuring him of her pleasure with him. There is no worry in his eyes, no thought towards anything but her after that brief diversion. His nose lightly rubbed back against. A soft little growl drawn forth by the nip. His hands slide, both of his broad palms filling with half of her rump. The big male squeezing carefully as he gazes into her eyes. "I could not forget you, Aimee.. never. I would give you more if you want it.. my strongest lust is sated, yet I could never truly lose a desire for your body. For your fire. I am yours." Yes, the most dire of his need is quiet. Still, he cannot but feel a heat rise. the hungrier she seems, the quicker it will be to rise, as if feeding off her own lust for him.

Some time later...

Aimee tosses her torn shirt at him, giggling as she turns to move to the wardrobe. "Lucky I left some things here. I don't expect Kelley will notice..." She pulls out a shirt, almost identical, putting that and the rescued jeans on the back of the sofa, before walking towards the shower. She hooks a towel from the back of the door and the sound of running water can be heard for a brief period. When she emerges, damp and shivering in a towel, "The hot water run out..." She pulls a face, drying herself quickly, shivering.

Desmond almost feels an urge to follow her as she goes into the bathroom, but.. not this time. He breathes out a low huff and reluctantly rises from the bed. Some weight of reality closing in on him again. But not nearly enough of it to dent the contentment that fills him, top to bottom. He takes some time in stretching himself out. Arms.. legs.. back.. Not that he has a great deal of tension to bother with. She will find him sitting on the couch when she returns, only having spent the time to get his jean back on, the rest of his discarded articles left where they were tossed. Seeing her shiver, he rises to come and aid her. Both with the drying and, once she is dried, with a warming hug that squeezes her against him gently. "I only wish I could provide you a better place.. finding a better job.. a better place to live is taking more time than I had anticipated. But when I have it.. you will be welcome." Perhaps not quite sure how deeply this goes yet.. perhaps not daring to hope for how deep it goes.

Aimee returns the hug tightly, stealing his heat, before she pulls away, reaching for her clothes. "I'll provide me with those, Des. We'll get the club when we can... no more of that, you aren't responsible for me, Des..." Those words lack the fierce pride that once burnt but are calm, quietly spoken as she wiggles into jeans, discarding underwear and pulling her shirt over her head. "Better lose the shirt... just in case." She slants him a look before tossing it into a bin.

Desmond lets her go gently this time, without that lingering hunger. Comfortable now in letting her go. Confident in her return more so than ever. "It isn't just that, Aimee.. I wish to be with you, near you. We could share in the expenses. That means little to me. You are what means the most." He watches her as she dresses. Appreciating her form, feeling a softer curl of desire lick within. One that is more enjoyable than intense. A flicker of that sheepishness slipping out when she mentions the shirt again, but he remains unrepentant.

Aimee slides on shoes, turning to face him with a smile, pushing her fingers through her wet hair. "I know, Des... but not a decision to be made now, today... not until after then." The looming mission sits there, between them, a barrier to them being together. "I can't tell him before then, Des, if he went in hurt, his mind on me leaving... I'd never forgive myself." Her eyes are appealing, pleading him to understand.

Desmond goes to her, taking her hand in both of his. "I know, Aimee.. I understand. I promise you I will breath not one word of this before that is done with. Nor the topic of lodgings together. I'm sorry, I just.. I feel so light now.. so full.. I wish to charge forth and act." A pause as he seems unsure how to reconcile such varied sensations. "I love you so." Breathing that out finally, defaulting back to the basic truth as he lifts her hand to press a lingering kiss to the back. His eyes not leaving her as he indulges in the gentle touch. Then he forces himself to release her hand and take a reluctant step back. "Go, Aimee.. please, before I beg that you stay longer. I will write to you again.. I will leave it here for you."

Aimee 's eyes soften and she nods, "I have to go. I don't want to... it is going to be so hard, Des..." She steps forward, pressing a kiss against his lips before she reaches for her bag, her coat, spinning past him. She turns, before she opens the door, blowing a kiss to him. "Notes under the mattress... " She laughs, her face alight before she opens the door and is gone.

Desmond returns that kiss gently, along with a soft touch to her hip. A gentle squeeze before she slips away. Unable to help when it comes to helping himself to one last teasing touch. He turns, lingering in the room. He may be there for a time, simply taking in the time spent. "Hard, but we will persevere, Aimee. Until we meet again." He knows not when, but there is a sense of confidence in his voice now. He knows they shall meet again, more so than he has for a long time. Always hat niggling little doubt. But now that doubt is no more. When she is gone he moves back over to the couch and sits back, eyes closed as he lets it all sink in for a time before he too goes off to his daily tasks.